I cannot think of a title Suggest in reviews?
by Kiley
Summary: This is about Andromeda Black, Sirius' "favorite cousin", Nymphadora Tonks' mother. Please suggest titles, I am at a loss. Chapter two: A threat from a painting....
1.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related places and characters in no way belong to myself. The plot and circumstance of this story, however, is original to my brain, so please do not copy it. I receive no money for this work, only the satisfaction of sharing it with others.

Author's Note: These chapters will most likely vary greatly in length. Each one is a separate entry (usually denoting a separate day) in Andromeda Black's life. Please review, such are the things that keep me sane. :)

Tempest

There came a storm on Christmas Day. No snow fell, only rain, much to my disappointment. They were being intolerable again, so I went for a walk in the squall, taking this book, which is my only confidante at home.I could never tell anyone in my family anything, after all. Not this, never this.

Fates! What have I done? Why have I brought this shame and torture upon myself? Mother will shun me. Father will disown me, all for my horrendous choices. If only I could take it back, change the past….

That is useless thinking, or so I tell myself. My inkwell runs dry and my pages grow wet. Not from the rain, but my own tears. 

Ancestors, save me! I knew not the consequences of my actions!

Perhaps I shall catch pneumonia out here, and die a slow, sickly death. Then I may take my secret to my tomb. All would be well, if I were only strong enough to die. 

Alas, I am weak.


	2. 

Immense thanks to NAZ and Duckky for their constructive reviews. I am aware of how short the chapters are, but I believe they will get longer as more happens. In the meantime, I shall try to upload these small ones frequently. As for Andromeda's secret, well, that is something you will probably guess soon….

Chapter Two: Portrait Murmurs

I cannot bear to be in this house any longer. I feel the eyes of the portraits on me wherever I go. My mind falters and for an instant I'm sure, sure they must know—but nothing happens.

Nothing ever happens.

Mother has taken my sisters shopping for new robes, despite the fact that Christmas was two days ago. She frowned when I requested to stay home alone. I see now I should have gone, acted as though these new silks and velvets were all I cared for. That is what I would have done last year. That is who I would have been, had it not been for….

What is so wrong with me that I have such problems? My guilt grows stronger every day. It is at times like a worm, gnawing away at my stomach, and other times like a Lethifold, smothering me with its weight, pulling me into these deep recesses of thought.

"Your guilt is not all that grows," says the painting of Great-great-aunt Altais. She has been reading over my shoulder! I am frozen, I know not how to respond. Certainly she has not guessed…?

I have run to my bedroom. In the end I spun to face her, wizened old biddy that she was, and demanded to know what she meant by "your guilt is not all that grows".

She folded her wrinkled hands and gazed at me smugly. I felt my heart stop.

She knew.

I have flung the blankets over my head and only a few moments ago ceased sobbing into my pillow. My miserable life may as well be at its end. She will tell Mother. I ought to murder myself and save her and Father the trouble.


	3. 

Yes, October, the general idea is to create some suspense. NAZ1, I really enjoy your reviews and help, I'm just going to write a bit more and see what you come up with or what strikes me. This chapter is extremely short, but as I said in the beginning, they're not really chapters but different entries. So I'll have the next one ready soon. I've also decided to nix the titles. 

~*~*~*~

When Mother and my sisters returned, I pretended to be ill. I daresay I looked it. 

"Utterly stupid, Andromeda Black, going out into that storm. What ever shall I do with you," she said, mixing some Pepperup Potion. She means it, too. She does not trust me for many reasons. I suspect Narcissa will always be her favorite.

I now rest still in bed. Little Bella came to lie with me, after she showed off her new cloak, which somehow sparkles exactly like her eyes. I told her she was beautiful. She merely smiled, because it is obvious. She was a darling baby, then a lovely child, and now at twelve she looks sixteen and radiant. 

"You are beautiful too," she said, throwing off her cloak and snuggling under my quilts. I leaned over to kiss her forehead, but she pulled away.

"You're not contagious, are you?"

I shook my head. My little sister smiled.

Thank goodness I have one friend.


	4. 

Another short chapter, though I have every intention of making them longer as things pick up. Much thanks to all those who reviewed, especially Saturnine, as they are new! :) And as always, Duckky and NAZ1.

My life is extremely hectic right now, so please endure with me.

~*~*~*~*~

For a few blissful hours - most of which I was asleep – I forgot my predicament. Unfortunately, the sun rose, life continued, and I could not feign sickness for the whole of Christmas vacation.

I went to breakfast the next morning fully expecting the Inquisition to be waiting for me. But it didn't come. Mother nodded as usual, asked if I was feeling better, and that was the end of it. She fussed over some decision the Ministry had made while Father ignored her. I think she used to be pretty, I know it's from her I get my black hair, which everyone says is my finest feature. But age and stress do not become her. Her long hair grays, her fair skin sags. I never want to get old, it looks so unpleasant.

"Did you know," said Bella through a spoonful of oatmeal, "that if you were born on a Friday, you're destined to be wealthy?"

Narcissa opened her mouth, as though about to say something mean, but thought better of it and ventured to interrupt our mother's rant. "What day was I born, Mother?"

"Check the family bible. How am I supposed to know?"

"Well, you were there."

"I was born on a Tuesday," Bella said importantly. "It means I'm loyal."

"It means you're a twit," said Narcissa under her breath. I was the only one who heard her, so I gave her hand a sharp poke with my fork. She glared at me but did nothing.

But now I am worried. The family bible records every marriage, birth and death in the family. What's more, it does so by itself. For example, when Cousin Cassie got married, they had the thing planned for two years in advance, so the book knew then. Two years is much longer than nine months. 

I must take action soon. I must do something, else my nerves will probably short from this worry. Damn it all, do you know what I mean? Everything to hell, with me.


	5. 

Thanks to my dear reviewers, all five of you. :) This chapter is a bit longer than most of the previous ones. 

~*~*~*~*~

Wouldn't you know it, Narcissa went to check the Bible this very day, not long after breakfast. Sometimes she really annoys, no, infuriates me---to the point where I don't even like her (except she's my sister, so I must, at least somewhat). She simply _had_ to run and tell mummy that it wasn't on its shelf.

Mother has worked herself into a frenzy. O no! Something has escaped her control! Heaven forbid! And this is only a book. Imagine what she would do if one of her own daughters disobeyed her?

She's enlisted us all to help her search. Father quickly thought of something pressing at work to be taken care of, but it's not as though his effort would have helped. The stupid heirloom is perfectly safe, under my bed.

Dear God, it says right there. Mira Tonks, born to Andromeda Black and Theodore Tonks.

I am becoming such a horrible person!

First, I get myself pregnant. Yes, I can write that now. I'm reasonably comfortable that as long as I keep this book and the family Bible bewitched invisible and locked in my trunk that no one shall find out my secret. It is a small bit of temporary relief, which I have done something most heinous for. All right, I suppose you want me to fill you in. Whoever you are. In fact, you had better not be Narcissa! Oh, I need some really excellent hexes to put on this book…oh, yes. What happened.

I have never liked my Great-great-aunt Altais, though I have not had this discomfort of knowing her in real life. I daresay she has never felt kindly towards me, either. One of the most unpleasant memories I have is her urging my mother to beat me for wanting to go play Quidditch with some of the neighborhood children. "She is eight years old, it is time she started learning about how to be a lady and not a delinquent." She has always had rather unenlightened views, I'm afraid. Had a right fit when I came downstairs wearing my pajama pants one morning. 

But I needed to talk to her, so I went into the library, wasting a few minutes stoking the fire. When I stood up, she was looking at me—not with contempt, but blatant approval, even pride.

"Never thought you had any nerve," she said, folding her wrinkly, bejeweled hands, a trace of a smile on her face. 

"What do you mean?" I asked. Forgo the innocence, I was trying not to incriminate myself.

"Oldest trick in the book, you know. I think one of my own daughters used it, though she never did tell me outright."

I stood before her, my hands clasped nervously over my middle. "I have no idea what you speak of."

She smiled fully now, sending chills down my spine. "There there, dear, I'm not going to tell your mother, though I will tell you that she'll be pleased. There's no shame in what you did, one has to watch out for themselves, and acceptable husbands are running thin in this day and age, what with all the inter-muggle marriages…."

When I did nothing save look confused, she continued.

"It will have been the Malfoy boy, won't it? Your sister seemed quite taken with him, but you are the elder, it is only fair you have first choice. As I said, I never thought you had much nerve, nor a very good head on your shoulders, but now you have proved me wrong, and happily so!" She beamed down at me. "So, that is you as good as married, we must find someone for Narcissa and Bella…though Bella's young yet, and if there is no one else, she could marry Sirius, they are close in age…."

I felt my stomach contort in disgust. "First-cousin marriages aren't done anymore!" I exclaimed. "It is utterly revolting for you to suggest such a thing!"

"Hush, silly girl! Perhaps you are not so wise—perhaps you did not mean to get yourself with child to force Lucius—"

"I will never marry Lucius Malfoy! He is not the father of my child, you miserable hag!"

She stopped, frozen in her portrait. With a cry I pulled it from the wall—I could hear her shuffling, attempting to untangle herself from her broad skirts and run to the safety of another painting, but I was too swift. Before she could flee, I flung her into the fireplace to burn and trouble me no more.

And now I sit in the light of those dancing, glorious flames, watching the last of the ebony frame give way to fire and ash. I have bought myself months of time now, time in which I may speak with my love, and everything will be all right. I know there are ways to rid oneself of child, but I am above those—maybe Great-great-aunt Altais was right, and I simply have no wits. Either way, this child is mine—this daughter—and I do not know what I shall name her, but you could bet your life it will not be Mira.


End file.
